


Therapy Session

by reflectiveless



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, PTSD John, Sociopathic Sherlock, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflectiveless/pseuds/reflectiveless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People wonder why John puts up with Sherlock, sometimes John does too. Maybe they aren't so different after all? John's just better at hiding it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Work

John often heard people whispering, “Why does he put up with him?” “How could anyone stand that freak?” They were of course referring to Sherlock. He couldn’t stand when he over heard these things. Of course his flat mate wasn’t the easiest person to get on with, he was a bloody git and quite possibly the most socially awkward man in all of England.

 

“John? I’ve been reading your blog, I am glad you have continued it, but we need to talk about it.” Ella attempted to have a soft yet firm tone as she talked to her patient.

 

“Oh right, I still have some cases I need to upload to it, I try to give the cases a bit of time after they are solved before I post about them. Sherlock doesn’t like me posting anything about ongoing cases.” He replied absent mindedly.

 

“John- Your blog is suppose to be about your life to help you get over the PTSD.”

 

“Hm? I don’t understand, it is about our life? I suppose I could put in just daily stuff, but then Sherlock says that’s boring and doesn’t like people knowing about those things anyway.” Again he missed his therapist’s implications.

 

“I don’t think you understand. You have only been writing about your ‘flat mate.’ You never mention your work at the hospital or any of your girlfriends. You don’t even mentioned girlfriends to me anymore.”

 

“Oh, well, it has been a bit of time since the last one I suppose.” His eyes now seem distant.

 

“What was the name of the last one?”

 

John draws a blank and chuckles awkwardly. “Well, she probably wasn’t very exciting then huh?”

 

His therapists gives him a displeased face. “When was the last time you even asked a girl out?”

 

“Well…” _I can’t tell her I stopped dating after Sherlock’s last tantrum about me going off at night for dates…_ “I’ve just been very occupied with work.”

 

“What work?”

 

John scoffs “All the cases.”

 

“John, you are a doctor. You work in a hospital. It’s your flat mate that works for Scotland Yard. “

 

That was a great blow to the former military doctor. “  I- I! “ He goes silent for a moment thinking. “I help.”

 

“John-“ John wondered why his therapist started so many sentences by stating his name first. It just seemed so utterly redundant, who else could she possibly be talking to if they were alone in the room? “John- I know that you have essentially cured the psychosomatic limp in your leg and the tremor in your hand is significantly better, but I think you starting to obsess a bit.”

 

“I have no idea what your are talking about. Helping solve cases for the Yard help Sherlock pay the rent. I’m not some degenerate who gets off on seeing dead bodies if that’s what you think.”

 

“You keep changing the subject. You bring everything you talk about back to Sherlock.”

 

John’s eyes widened as he finally caught what Ella was trying to say. A slight blush rose to his face so he looked away trying to appear annoyed. “I am not gay! We have been over this.”

 

“And there you are again. I never said anything about being gay. Just that you seem infatuated with the man. Your blog that is supposedly about ‘your life’ is about your flat mate’s life. You chronicle everything about him, always bring him up in sessions. Yet whenever I ask something about him directly you always state that you are not gay.”

 

Now John knew there was no way he could regain eye contact with her.

 

“You once even admitted your broke up with one of your girlfriends simply because he told you to. Not even asked, told you.”

 

“I am not infatuated with him.” His voice was barely above a whisper his eyes admit on not looking at her.

A chirp came from John’s pocket. He was suppose to have his cell off during therapy sessions but he often forgot to do so. His therapist looked disapprovingly again.

“Sorry about that.” He knew he couldn’t look at the message, but the thought of who it might be from and what it could say was burning him from inside. _What if it’s a case? What if it’s Sherlock? Or Lestrade?_ His mind buzzed.

 

“Oh just answer it. I can tell it’s bothering you.”

 How's therapy going?- SH

The corner of John's mouth curled down. Sherlock had done that on purpose. He knew that he couldn't answer his phone during therapy but that he also would forget to tunr it off. _The git._  

“Sorry about that” John coughed, hoping that the distraction was enough to change the topic they were on.

Ella was suspicious she knew who had sent the text but attempted to let it drop. “I think it would be in your best interests to start spending less time with your flat mate. That’s all.”

 

That was simple enough, John could just nod in agreement and pretend it was something he had actually considered and would do. “Alright.” _Was that too forced?_ He clenched his jaw.

Ella’s right eye twitched a bit. She clearly didn’t believe him, John knew this since he had been taking to heart all the things that Sherlock had told him about catching a persons bluff.  “You know these sessions are for you right? To help you with stress? I don’t just tell you these things to punish you, you do want to get better right?’

 

“Erm, yes, I mean, of course.” His finger flipped a button on the side of his phone that made it go silent just in case. His suspicion was confirmed when the screen lit up in a few seconds. Another text. John’s eyes naturally gravitated down to the phone.

 

 She's boring, come back home.- SH

 

John stifled a soft smile forming and looked back at Ella. “I’ve been much better lately. You know that.”

 

“I’m not sure you have been actually.”

 

“Wha-“

“John- don’t interrupt. You have been slowly mentioning Sherlock more and more, and no one else. You use to come in quietly, smiling at the receptionist in the hall, even engaged in small talk. But lately you act as if it’s all beneath you. You talk about Sherlock’s work as if it’s your work and how inferior everyone is to Sherlock’s logic. The past few sessions you say they are even beneath your logic. You’re shutting the world out John, it’s very concerning.”

 

John let out a frustrating sigh.

 

“The man sounds absolutely infuriating. You have even said he is yourself. Why do go so far out of your way to bend for what he wants?”

 

John tried to regain his composure at Ella’s harsh words. _Or perhaps they only seemed harsh to him.  “_ Because he is my friend.” A moment of pause before he continues in a slightly muffled voice. “and I’m his only friend.”

 

“You’re his only friend? How can you tell?”

“He tells me all the time actually.”

Something clicks in Ella’s head. “John, how many friends do you have?”

John thinks this is a rather silly question at first. “I dunno, a few, why?”

“I don’t mean acquaintances or how many people you have in your phone book. How many friends do you go and hang out with?”

The answer was immediate in his mind, but not on his lips. Again he tried to find an excuse “Well I’m just very busy these days with-“

 

“With work?” Ella finishes John’s sentence.

“Yes. Work.”

“And by work you mean following your flat mate around so you can spend your free time writing about him?”

“Yes, I mean no!”

 

His phone lit up again.

 

Your therapist has been living alone for the past five years and owns three cats. I thought this information might be useful if she questions you in a manner you don’t like again. – SH

 

Sherlock was thoughtful in his own way. John couldn’t help but let out a snicker as he tried to sneak read the text.

 

“John, you have been very disconnected from everyone other then Sherlock. Perhaps you should try harder at dating again?”

 

“I don’t need anyone else in my life right now. I’m… I’m happy as is.” He barely recognized the words coming from his own mouth. He had a string of meaningless relationships when he had first moved in with Sherlock, names and faces that faded in and out of his life. They always seemed so important while he dated them, yet he never mourned the loss of any of them whenever he was dumped- usually for being distant towards them. “And besides, it’s not as if I’ve been living alone for years.” A small smirk was quickly hidden by a fake cough. “or live with a bunch of cats, that sort of thing.”

 

Ella’s eyes narrowed. John had no way of knowing she lived alone with three cats after her ex fiancé left her. “John, let me see your phone.”

 

He looked like a child caught in a lie, “um what? Isn’t that against patient doctor protocol?”

 

“He’s been texting you hasn’t he? You keep looking down at your phone thinking I haven’t noticed.” She puts her fingers to her temples in frustration. “Just, stop alright?”

 

The phone lit up again.

 Emergency, Comehome now. -SH

 

John was timidly responded, “Uh… he says there’s been an emergency…. I think I have to go.”

 

“No John! You need these sessions. You constantly complain about him tricking you into going all over the city on frivolous errands. Didn’t he once tell you to come home immediately to send a text for him? He’s just playing with you John.”

 

John knew Ella was probably right.

 

Please?- SH

 

Sherlock never said please. Not when commanding him home over an emergency anyway.

 

It was fifteen minutes before John came rushing through the door of 221B. He knew it was not an emergency, _who says ‘please’ during an emergency?_ But had come home anyway.

 

Sherlock sat gun in hand shooting at the wall. The gun now clicked, out of bullets.

 

“Please don’t tell me the emergency was that you were bored. You know I have to go to therapy Sherlock.” The latter part of what he said sounded forced in his mind.

 

“Am I boring?” Sherlock didn’t make any form of movement, he didn’t even look up at John. His voice was flat with no emotion in it.

 

John laughed. “Of all things that you are, trust me, ‘boring’ is not one of them.” This was by no means a compliment, but he wasn’t too sure Sherlock would understand that or not.

 

“What do you talk to her about?”

 

“Who?” The question threw John off at first.

 

Sherlock scowled. “Who do you think I mean? That… woman.”

 

“Oh, you mean my therapist? Ella? Just things. What I’m doing.”

 

“She can read the blog for all that.”

 

John’s mind went back to what Ella had said to him, that he only writes about Sherlock in his blog.

 

“Sher- uh, I just have to… you know I have some problems.”

 

Sherlocked turned at looked at him. John could literally feel him do this so he sat on the couch and tried to look away as he spoke.

 

“I still have those dreams.” He didn’t notice his left hand had started shaking as he talked, Sherlock had. “I can’t…” he sighed quietly, there was no point in explaining he no longer could connect to people. He had tried so hard when he was first released from the military. Faked his way through dates, relationships, even small talk. He didn’t care about the people around him. He had wanted desperately to care, so much so that people really did believe his act. But in the end, he just didn’t care about other people.

 

He looked up at Sherlock, he hadn’t noticed until know that the taller man had silently gotten up and was now hovering over the couch near him, an unusual look on his face that John didn’t recognize _. He’s a sociopath, he’s never cared about anyone, how could he understand why I care that I don’t care?_ John thought as he realized the answer.

 

“Oh.” Everything clicked in John’s mind. He was as bad as Sherlock, he was just better at faking he wasn’t. It was Sherlock’s honest lack of interest in people that had appealed so much to John. Whenever Sherlock had laughed at one of John’s jokes, thanked him for something, said something he had done was ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for that matter, it was genuine. The man had no ability ( _or perhaps it was need)_ to fake a falsified emotion.

 

For Sherlock it was the opposite. John seemed to be just an average mundane man at first, slightly above average intelligence, possibly valuable medical knowledge. But something had always driven him to find out more about his short flat mate. He had realized it two months after John agreed to move in with him. The man faked his way through life pretending he cared about other mundane things that he so clearly hadn’t. If he was actually as frustrated with Sherlock as he often claimed to be, then he would have moved out, not followed the detective on every life threatening mission he possibly could. Even stranger to Sherlock, John did care about one person at least.

 

“John, you can always talk to me if you need to.” His voice was almost a whisper.

 

“You’re not… jealous are you?” He looked up at the looming face before him.

 

“Well, I did text you as an experiment to see if your morals for your therapists rules were greater then your loyalty to me.” He smiled as he realized he had won the wager.

 

A bead of sweat fell down John’s face as his mind drifted back towards the reason why he had a therapist in the first place, his hand shaking all the more, “You can’t just snap your fingers and tell me to leave again like that. This is important Sherlock.” A strange thought popped in his head. _Am I actually mad? Or do I think I should be mad?_ He hated when he had thoughts like this. He looked at Sherlock giving his best ‘annoyed face.’ Sherlock’s eyes softened. _Damn. He knows I’m faking._

Sherlock understood. John was his equal as well as his opposite. He knew John was pretending as hard as he could, trying to believe that he was really feeling things when he was actually not sure.

 

Sherlock leaned uncomfortably close to John’s face. The shorter man was to stiff with surprise to lean back away from the sociopath.

“Sherlock, what are you-“

Sherlock stepped over the arm of the couch and quickly wrapped his arms around his blogger who fell on his back laying on the couch, Sherlock on top of him. They lay wordless in each other’s arms.

 

Sherlock hid nearly every emotion he had ever felt, convinced that they couldn’t be real. He acted out his pretend life as a sociopath when in reality he felt emotions very deeply, but was unsure what any of them meant, convincing himself that they weren’t real.

 

John gave in. He pushed his head into Sherlock’s shoulder as his hands found their way up to Sherlock’s black curls. He no longer questioned if what he was feeling was real or not. He knew in this moment at least, that everything he was thinking was real.

 

“I know it’s important. You are important John. That’s why it hurts that you tell a total stranger all these things about yourself and not me.” He paused before a flushed look came over his face “I didn’t mean that… I meant that…” it was too late, the ruse was up. Sherlock cared.

 

John smiled up at the detective, _his detective_. “I thought you were married to your work.”

 

Sherlock’s blush deepened. “You are my work.” 


	2. What Do You Want?

Chapter 2:

What Do You Want?

 

“You are my work.” The words rang in John’s head through the night and into the next morning when he and the detective arrived on scene of a murder. They had both fell asleep in each other’s arms and woke to Lestrade texting both of them. They still hadn’t spoken about what happened the night before.

 

***

 

“John, give me a diagnosis.”

“He’s dead.” John deadpanned.

“Obviously he’s dead John, don’t be dull. How did he die?”

John swallowed before kneeling down near the body. “Asphyxia. There’s a blue fiber on his mouth, it matches the pillow on the bed. The body was staged, there would have been sign of a struggle but his arms are down by his sides.”

“Very good John. Now, who killed him?”

 

“The wife?”

Sherlock scoffed, “You’re guessing, don’t guess.”

“It’s always the wife.” John mumbled.

Sherlock let out a sigh, “Nail polish on the pillow, chartrux, an unusual color, the wife had new manicure today but the right index finger was smudged. One doesn’t go through the trouble of getting a manicure if it isn’t immaculate. Oh, and it was definitely not pre meditated.”

 

“You know entirely too much about manicures.”

“I know exactly as much as I need to know about them for my work John.”

 

“I was right though.” John said smugly.

“You guessed, it doesn’t count if you guessed.”

“I never guess.” The shorter manned teased.

Sherlock was still proud that John was catching onto how to deduce things. He had never tried teaching the art to anyone else, he thought it was above the mental capacities of _normal_ people. But John was special.

 

“Right, well, good job Sherlock” Lestrade liked to stand back out of the way of Holme’s insults as he analyzed the scene.

 

Sherlock gave the D.I. a firm nod before turning back to John, “Angelo’s?”

“Alright.” John was getting use to leaving a crime scene only minutes after arriving.

 

“Freak solve another one then? Sure he didn’t place it here himself?”

 

In an attempt to avoid human interaction John ignored Donovan while trailing behind the detective, until she cut him off.

“You know he’s a loon right? He’s probably not safe to be around, he even laughs while at crime scenes.” Her words were muffled but cut like daggers.

 _John calm down, don’t get mad here_ he repeated to himself.

“Just trying to get through the door,” He avoided eye contact with her and noticed Sherlock outside the small flat had stopped to wait for John.

Donovan’s eyes quickly scanned over John’s body to his great annoyance. “Does he pay you? I can’t think of any other reason you would follow him to crimes scenes and take his abuse.”

 _Don’t answer that, ignore her_. “No, just trying exit if you could allow me.” His voice remained calm but he could feel the pressure building in his head.

 

“And I know you can’t be his friend, that freak has no friends. So why do you-“

“Get the bloody hell out of my way!” His voice was louder then he had realized, even Lestrade turned to see what had happened. “He- We, show up and solve your damn crimes for you and all you can think of doing with that miniscule brain of yours is insult him and make assumptions about me. So how about instead of that and screwing Anderson you go do your damn job. Now kindly get out of my way!” The vein on John’s forehead was very prominate. He wasn’t sure what had come over him but he was done with playing games with people he never gave a second thought about.   
He pushed his way past her as Sherlock followed his stride off the premises.

 

Angelo’s was walking distance from the crime scene, Sherlock estimated they had walked 67% of the way their without either of them exchanging a single word.

_‘Do I mention what happened last night? That I would like for that to happen again? Or that he is mad? Do I stay quiet because he is mad? Do I thank him for defending my honor to Sally? Or should that go unmentioned since I am the reason he got mad at her? Maybe I can just take his hand and walk in silence? Or will that be too much? He always insists he’s not gay, perhaps last night was just a fluke of  some kind of … sentiment?’_ Sherlock was lost in thought.

 

“I- I’m sorry about that Lock.” John’s voice seemed distant, Sherlock had just barely caught the words.

 

“Sorry about what? The walk? The lack of exchange of words? I’m hardly offended, just wondering what protocol would be.”

 

“Oh, no, not that, well I’m sorry about that too. I meant what Donovan said.”

“Why would you apologize for Donovan upsetting you?”

“I mean what she said… about you, and how I yelled.”

“You have no control over what someone else says John, but frankly I was rather amused when you did raise your voice.” Sherlock’s lips curled to show his satisfaction.

 

“Er, right then.”

 

They had approached Angelo’s, Sherlock stepped ahead and opened the door, waiting for John to walk in before him. He was 89% sure that he was socially inclined to do this assuming the events of last night would not be forgotten by his flat mate. 

 

John paused unsure what was going on, “Oh, uh, thank you?” He walked in.

Sherlock followed but his expression had dropped a bit. “Was I not supposed to do that?”

Before John could say either way Angelo himself came out to sit them at their regular table in the window seat. “Ah you two! Here again! Let me just get a candle for the table.”

Sherlock watched John intently, _he didn’t protest to the candle this time, but then he hadn’t the last time either. Maybe he had just given in and still didn’t want it?_

“John, the usual for you then?” Angelo’s voice was as robust as ever, John gave a simple nod. “And Sherlock, eating tonight?”

Sherlock’s hands where in their classic thinking pose as his eyes narrowed. “I think so… pasta?”

“Coming right up!”

 

Sherlock continued to watch John for any sign of a social que or even hidden clues as to what his next move should be.

John mindlessly brought his hand to his neck, lightly squeezed the side, then ran it to his shoulder.

“Shoulder hurts?”

“Just a bit.”

“Sorry. That was probably from last night. Not your regular sleeping position I would imagine.”

John’s expression grew uneasy. “Right.” _So they would be discussing it after all_. “About that… last night I mean.”

“Wont happen again.”

John wasn’t expecting to hear that. “Oh. Uh…” He tried to think of something to respond to that. ‘ _This is a good thing, you’re not gay, we can put this behind us now._ ‘ These thoughts didn’t help though, the monotone words Sherlock had said had actually hurt him. _‘If he doesn’t want me then that’s fine. At least I know now. ‘_ His eyes subconsciously dropped as his shoulders slouched.

 

Sherlock had taken this in, always the experimenter. “I’m sorry John. But the couch in that position was just too uncomfortable. We’ll just have to sleep in one of the beds.”

The doctor’s eyelids fluttered _Did I hear him right?_

“That is of course if you would like to repeat last night.”

“Yes!” John blurted out before he knew what he was saying. His hand instinctively raised to cover his mouth.

The detective smirked. “Well if you’re that enthusiastic about then I must insist.”

The doctor’s face felt hotter then a moment ago, “But… where does this put us?”

“My bed is closer to the main part of the flat, but you can choose whichever room you want.”

“No, no, not that. I mean. What is this? Between us?”

Sherlock blinked. He wasn’t really sure. He only knew that last night holding his blogger in his arms as he fell to sleep was strangely satisfying.

“This is more then just sleeping arrangements right?” John’s face was too hard for Sherlock to read.

“Well, it would be preferable if you didn’t date any more women.” Sherlock had no idea how to word what he wanted from John but luckily at this the doctor’s face softened a bit.

“You don’t know what you’re doing do you?” It sounded sweet coming from him, not harsh like when a police officer accused Sherlock of not knowing what he was doing, but that had been the only context anyone had ever used the line on him before, as an accusation.

Sherlock looked down, _the food will arrive soon_. 

“It’s ok.”

Sherlock looked back up, John was _smiling_ at him.

“Just tell me everything you want from me, alright?”

Sherlock nodded and thought for a moment. There was in fact quite a lot he wanted from John. 


	3. Why John Puts Up With Sherlock

Chapter 3

Why John Puts Up With Sherlock 

John frowned as their meal was interrupted by his phone, it was a reminder that he had promised to see Ella again today since he hadn’t stayed the full session yesterday.

 

Sherlock still hadn’t answered John’s question about what in all he wanted from his blogger. “What time do you see her?”

 

Of course the world’s only consulting detective knew what his phone said already. “I have about an hour and a half.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

John chuckled lightly to himself as he remembered what Ella had told him about Sherlock. “It could be an interesting session.”

 

“Can I come?”

 

John blinked in surprise. “Come? To my therapy session? Uh- I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

 

“Please?” John gulped, there was that ‘ _please’_ again. “People are always telling me I should see a therapist after all.” He smiled sarcastically.

 

“She might not allow it, but alright, you can come. Just don’t be disappointed if you’re told to sit in the waiting room.”

 

Sherlock was satisfied by this.

 

***

As soon as the two boarded the cab Sherlock sat closer to John then they were normally accustomed to. _Is this ok? He hasn’t told me to back off yet._ Sherlock analyzed John’s facial reaction to his experiment.

 

John wasn’t at ease, he didn’t actually want Sherlock coming with him, especially after everything Ella said, _but then she had been completely wrong hadn’t she? What happened last night changed everything, right?_ He was very unsure of himself and had yet to realize the overly close proximity of Sherlock in the cab, his question for the genius over dinner still sat awkwardly unanswered.

 

“So, this?” John made a hand motion Sherlock didn’t quite comprehend.

 

“The cab?” He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion _, did John want him to pay for the cab fair? Was that to be expected of him now? Or was John asking if he was suppose to pay?_

 

“No, no” John sighed. _How on earth is this man supposedly a genius?_ “Us. Er- what would you like?”

 

“Oh.” Sherlock contemplated this not sure what he could ask for before John was uncomfortable.

 

“You don’t need to think too hard about, just say what’s on your mind, anything, it’s all fine.”

 

“I want you to tell me about what you’ve been feeling since the war.”

 

This was a very unexpected blow. “Uh, not really what I meant.”

 

“Why do you pretend to care about things? Why do you pretend to get mad at me?”

 

“I don’t pretend!” he said a bit too loud but Sherlock and his usual social awkwardness didn’t catch it. “I do get _upset_ with you sometimes, it’s just that I forgive you.”

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Cabbie- you flunked out of high school, your wife thinks you’re not good enough for her and your kids despise you.”

 

“Well fuck you too mate!” The cabbie shot back considering if he wanted to kick them out or not but ultimately decided he needed the cab fair more then his pride.

 

“Sherlock! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

 

Sherlock clutched John’s face with his hands and stared intently into his eyes.

 

“What are you-?” John’s voice trailed off.

 

“Faking.”

 

“What?” _damn him, he would do an experiment on me like that._

 

“Faking. You’re not mad. You don’t care about the cabbie in the least, nor that I would insult a stranger like that, you are in fact very accustomed to me insulting strangers and don’t mind when I do it. But you almost always pretend to be cross with me, on rare occasions you don’t care enough to even pretend to be though.”

 

John crossed his arms uncomfortably.

 

“You have been seeing your therapist for over a year now and your lack of emotions is worsening yet you haven’t told her about it.”

 

“Sherlock.” He tried to warn him not go down this road.

 

Both men sat quietly for a bit.

 

“You’re not a sociopath John.” The words sat awkwardly in the air for a moment.

 

“I never said I was.”

 

“No, in fact you have been hiding it. You didn’t even think you might be a sociopath until you heard me say that I am. It gave you a possible answer for what you previously couldn’t name.” He paused. “But you aren’t one.”

 

John shifted in his seat. “Why do you say that?”

 

“You’re conflicted about the way you feel. You see how ‘ _normal’_ people act and react around you and you think you should be like them. Act like them. Pretend you’re boring and mundane like them, but you’re not. You don’t care about things that other people care about because you realize how very unimportant it all is after the war. But everyone seems so sure that they think they know what’s important, and you might have been that way too before, but you’re not now and you don’t understand it. Because you don’t care about these silly unimportant things you second guess your real emotions. You think all your feelings are fake, but they aren’t.”

 

“How do you know they aren’t?”

 

“Because I’m Sherlock Holmes and the best detective that has ever lived. Are you really going to question my authority on deductions?” Both men looked at each other stone faced until they both burst into laughter.

 

“Because I’m Sherlock bloody Holmes!” John mimicked. “And I have the biggest ego of all of mankind!”

 

Sherlock continued chuckling, “Well I am right after all.”

 

“Well you’ve been faking too.”

 

Sherlock’s laughter died out, “What do you mean?”

 

“You’re not the sociopath you claim to be.”

 

“I’m just high functioning-“

 

“No.” John put his hand on the side of Sherlock’s face the detective to look at him. “You have emotions Sherlock, I’ve seen them. You care about Lestrade, even Mycroft although you wont admit it. Mrs. Hudson is like a mother to you! I see the way you look at her and how you give her special treatment, the way you seek her acceptance despite driving her mad.”

 

“I do not-“ Sherlock stopped when he saw the look in John’s eyes. “Not just them.”

 

John smiled slightly, knowing what he might say next he took Sherlock’s hand in his.

 

“There’s a funny little army doctor I’ve been having very strong feelings for too you know.”

 

“Well, I’m sure if you would admit these feelings for him he would reciprocate in some way.”

 

Sherlock leaned in closer to John and was met by a pair of surprisingly soft lips for someone who spends half his time licking them.

 

***

 

“Ella?” John leaned through the door before entering, “I brought someone with me today, is that alright?”

 

Ella was surprised, John was so closed off about his private life that she couldn’t possibly imagine him wanting to bring someone in with him. “Of course.” She sat up straighter and straightened some files on the end table next to her seat.

 

John nervously sat on the small couch across from Ella followed by an uncharacteristically quiet Sherlock.

 

Ella’s expression suddenly changed “Oh no, is this Sherlock Holmes? You’re different without the hat.”

 

Sherlock cringed at the mention of the ungodly head wear he so despised.

 

“You didn’t make John bring you here did you?”

 

“No Ella, I wanted him to come. He just wants to- understand what’s been going on with me is all.” John said truthfully.

 

“Now John, I really think you need to think more about your future and settling down like we discussed last time.”

 

“I have and I did.”

 

“You what? What do you mean you ‘did’?”

 

John’s eyes flashed towards Sherlock again. “Settle down.”

 

“Living in a bachelor pad running around solving crimes is not settling down, by any means.”

 

“I’ve decided that’s all I want out of life, more or less. That’s what I plan to do from now on.”

 

“But John, you wanted to meet someone and-“

 

“I have.”

 

“You have? Since yesterday?” Her brow furrowed.

 

“Over a year ago and our life has been near perfect and I wouldn’t want it any other way, well, a few changes since we met of course.”

 

Ella watched in disbelief ‘ _he couldn’t possibly mean… ‘_

 

Sherlock took John’s hand causing John to grin giddily, “You see, I have all I need already, I was just to slow to see it before.”

 

***

 

The following day Sherlock and John showed up at a crime scene happier then anyone had ever seen them.

 

“Good, you’re here. I need you to figure out what went down here.” Lestrade gestured to a dead body sitting behind the wheel of a car.

 

Sherlock grinned, it was a very complicated murder and he would be able to show off to John. “Oh how dull, really Lestrade, Anderson should be able to solve this one for you!”

 

John chuckled as Sherlock walked off to get a better look, “Show off. He only says things like that when he’s trying to impress me.” He smiled fondly.

 

“Well he would.” Lestrade sighed. “How on earth do you get on with him?”

 

“Simple. I love him.”

 

Lestrade froze in place. _No, no, you obviously misheard him… or misunderstood him… or something. This is John ‘not gay’ Watson here._

 

Sherlock marched back over and grabbed John by the arm “John, you aren’t even listening to me deduce what happened! I need you by me.”

 

“Sherlock, I’m trying to talk to Greg.”

 

“Well stop.” He cut off John’s response by pressing his mouth against his in a deep kiss. Sherlock would get everything he ever wanted from John and John would love it.

 

 

An on looking Lestrade nearly fainted in disbelief. 


End file.
